My father, a man of mathematics, science and logic, who spent the better part of 47 years working in a laboratory testing soil samples and rocks, is not what one would call artistic. In fact, when asked about the aesthetic quality of an item, he's more likely to respond with, "Well, does it make sense and is it useful?" Therefore, it doesn't stand to reason that he would be the parent I would turn to for help with arts and crafts projects. My mother, after all, taught me to sew, knit, embroider, and artfully dollop meringue onto a perfectly baked lemon pie.
However, there are times when a man of precision is just the right person for a craft project. No, I wouldn't dream of asking him to offer advice on whether or not two plaids complement each other or if I should select cream in lieu of ecru. But he comes in awfully handy whenever power tools are in order, or if I need someone to sit down with a paper cutter and meticulously measure and trim cardstock to exact dimensions.
And so when, earlier this year, my dad and brothers cut down my mother's beloved aging birch tree in the front yard – the one she transplanted from her parents' woods – I scrambled to grab manageable-sized branches and small limbs, knowing I'd be putting my dad to work closer to Christmastime.
My plan? I would create my very own Yule log for the Christmas table.
"I need you to drill large holes in a birch branch," I informed him. "And you'll need a saw, too," I added. I explained my vision and he tested me on such things as, "Okay, how are you going to make sure this log sits level and doesn't roll? Have you considered the dripping wax? Are all taper candles of uniform circumference?" Very important questions to consider, indeed!
However, there are times when a man of precision is just the right person for a craft project. No, I wouldn't dream of asking him to offer advice on whether or not two plaids complement each other or if I should select cream in lieu of ecru. But he comes in awfully handy whenever power tools are in order, or if I need someone to sit down with a paper cutter and meticulously measure and trim cardstock to exact dimensions.
And so when, earlier this year, my dad and brothers cut down my mother's beloved aging birch tree in the front yard – the one she transplanted from her parents' woods – I scrambled to grab manageable-sized branches and small limbs, knowing I'd be putting my dad to work closer to Christmastime.
My plan? I would create my very own Yule log for the Christmas table.
"I need you to drill large holes in a birch branch," I informed him. "And you'll need a saw, too," I added. I explained my vision and he tested me on such things as, "Okay, how are you going to make sure this log sits level and doesn't roll? Have you considered the dripping wax? Are all taper candles of uniform circumference?" Very important questions to consider, indeed!
Before commencing, he carefully measured the spacing of the three holes, announcing they were equidistant from each other and straight as an arrow. (I wasn't worried.) Then he engaged me in a lengthy conversation about the depth of the holes, and how much of the log we should shave off each end.
I stood by him in the garage as he bored candle holes in my soon-to-be Yule log and then tidied up the ends of the log. As sawdust flew, the smell of the wooden shavings reminded me of my childhood and all the home projects he completed, his table saw whirring away as his spot-on measurements were cut and trimmed.
The log prepped and ready, the next stage was decorating. I don't know that my mom has ever used a glue gun. I got those mad skills from my dad, too. Some winter berries and greenery pieces found themselves artfully arranged on the top of the log amid white and red candles. Next, I implemented his advice about using small tacks on the bottom of the log to keep the temperamental log from rolling, flaming candles and all.
Violà! A centerpiece fit for the prettiest of Christmas tables. Happy Yuletide!
I stood by him in the garage as he bored candle holes in my soon-to-be Yule log and then tidied up the ends of the log. As sawdust flew, the smell of the wooden shavings reminded me of my childhood and all the home projects he completed, his table saw whirring away as his spot-on measurements were cut and trimmed.
The log prepped and ready, the next stage was decorating. I don't know that my mom has ever used a glue gun. I got those mad skills from my dad, too. Some winter berries and greenery pieces found themselves artfully arranged on the top of the log amid white and red candles. Next, I implemented his advice about using small tacks on the bottom of the log to keep the temperamental log from rolling, flaming candles and all.
Violà! A centerpiece fit for the prettiest of Christmas tables. Happy Yuletide!
